


Feeling the beat, etc.

by squidmemesinc



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Genital Piercing, M/M, Shame on me, Spitroasting, Tongue Piercings, i'm sorry mom, specifically...hip hop dance..., there is really no excuse for this at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidmemesinc/pseuds/squidmemesinc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In agreeing to spend time with them alone, Kei feels like he’s opened himself up to something dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feeling the beat, etc.

**Author's Note:**

> Hahaha. I um. I know I've said before that a fic was self indulgent but really you don't get more self indulgent than this. I feel like I should mention that I am absolute shit at any kind of dancing and have never even tried to do hip hop but I think it's really h o t....... I'm not even sure if there is hip hop dance in Japan, but there is some music (which is remarkably hard to find on YouTube? Go figure). And the piercings were probably wholly unnecessary. But yeah, usually I mark my porn as Mature but this is probably... More Explicit than that :''')

“Okay, are you ready for this?” Kuroo’s bouncing on his feet. He claps his hands together and shakes them out. Bokuto’s still giggling, and Kei already regrets agreeing to do this. Whether ‘this’ is practicing their dance for the club without the other club members, or taking a break from it to freestyle for a bit, he’s not sure. Maybe he regrets ever going to that training camp three years ago. He laces his hands together in his lap as Bokuto starts Kuroo’s iPod.

The brass throws him off; this isn’t hip hop, certainly. But then he realizes it’s Super Junior’s MAMACITA, and he rolls his eyes. They dance anyway (Bokuto’s still laughing a little and Kuroo’s got a stupid grin on his face). Kei’s only seen the music video for this song once, halfway through, but he’s sure the choreography they’re doing is the same, just modified for only two people.

This isn’t freestyling, but Kei is still bitter that they can make it look good even when it’s a _K-POP_ dance, of all things. It’s not enough that they’re both good at volleyball, but they’re also both in the dance club, and they’re just as good at it if not better than him.

Kei considers all the seemingly random coincidences that had drawn him to this point. There was the volleyball, of course. He had gone to that training camp with them his first year of high school, and they had accosted him then too, asking him to block for them. He hadn’t seen either of them for another year, until Kuroo was at one of Karasuno and Nekoma’s practice matches, since apparently he and Kozume were still friends. Kei spent a portion of that match feeling as though Kuroo was dissecting him, although they didn’t say much to each other at the time.

And then of course, Kei had somehow chosen the same college as both Kuroo and Bokuto, something he only found out on the day he showed up for the volleyball club’s tryouts. It was only a week after their first practice that they asked him to come here with them. Since you couldn’t reserve the studio without at least three people, he had agreed. His dorm room was far too small to practice in and he wasn’t about to go out in public.

However, in agreeing to spend time with them alone, Kei feels like he’s opened himself up to something dangerous.

Kei found them both ridiculously attractive when he first met them, physically speaking. In general, Kei doesn’t make too many friends; he’s more inclined to let other people do the legwork to start out, and if he likes them enough, he’ll maintain the friendship. Because of this, he usually only gets to know people who share his hobbies. Bokuto and Kuroo now share two of his most active hobbies, and they seem like friendly types, in their own weird ways. So this is opening up all sorts of doors for him to be frustrated by their hotness, and he is distressed.

At the same time, Kei knows he can keep his cool pretty well, probably better than…well, Bokuto. Even if it does seem like they’re both recklessly flirting with him at every opportunity. Because they can’t be, that would be absolutely ridiculous. What interest could they have in a tall gangly guy two years younger than them that they met only a couple of times? Kei can tell Kuroo’s the type of person who just likes to razz people, and Bokuto seems to go along with whatever is the most fun, so in all likelihood, Kei’s just thinking wishfully.

Kei lets them finish their song, acknowledging their skill in filling in the gaps from the music video with choreography that makes sense for the genre while not really being too interested in the dance itself. He has K-POP on his iPod, sure, but that’s mostly because he doesn’t like to leave any music genre unexplored.

They high-five at the end of it, all smiles whereas Kei is doing his best to look disinterested. “Very cute,” he says.

“You want to see cute?” Kuroo asks, sounding far too genuine. “Bokuto, my jam, please.”

His ‘jam’ is Oh!, and he sings along. Kei rolls his eyes a second time, and then considers rolling them until Kuroo stops dancing like a petite Korean girl. He doesn’t go for that long, stopping in the middle of a move and gesturing at Bokuto to cut the music, although Kei’s sure he has a dance for this entire song too.

“You have no sense of humor, Tsukki,” he says.

“Dancing is very serious business, Kuroo,” Bokuto replies. “No fun allowed.” He shakes his finger for effect and flashes Kei a playful smile.

Kei sighs and returns the smile with one of his own, albeit a snarkier one. “You don’t have to have all that much talent to dance to K-POP, is all. Are you guys trying to hide something?” He has a feeling he’s going to regret challenging them, since it might bring out something better in them that he can’t recover from, but he won’t back down.

Kuroo cocks his head to the side and drops his mouth open a little, putting his hands sassily on his hips. Bokuto utters a low “Ooooh” from his position beside the stereo, his eyes slightly narrowed. Kei can tell neither of them are really offended, which bugs him even more, which probably pleases them both. Still, Kuroo goes over to take control of the music now. He searches through his iPod muttering to himself things like “No,” “Maybe,” “Not feeling it,” until he settles on something.

Bokuto slides across the floor and sits next to Kei. “You better get ready, Tsukki-kun,” he whispers through the intro as Kuroo is pacing around the smooth wooden floor, rolling his head, loosening up his arms.

It’s ISSUGI from MONJU, Kei thinks. It takes him a second to pull the name of the song out of his vast musical knowledge, but it’s FUTURE LISTENING, he realizes once Kuroo starts to dance. The beat lends itself to jerkier, jumpier movements as the song starts; Kuroo moves his head, makes small but well-stuck jumps to either side, moving his arms as well.

As the lyrics pick up, he uses more of his body at once. He keeps to tight spaces, but doesn’t limit himself to just one area. When he moves, he flows from place to place, while keeping the air of rigidity that looks best with hip hop. But at the same time, his movements bleed into each other—nothing ever stutters; it doesn’t look like he makes any mistakes. Kei wonders if he’s danced to this song before, or if he’s good enough to just make that up.

Either way, he realizes he’s been watching raptly when the song slows enough that he stops dancing. He notices because he realizes he feels Bokuto watching him, and he blinks a few times forces himself to soften his face into something more relaxed.

Kuroo’s standing above him, arms crossed over his chest, looking smug. “You like?”

Kei gives as nonchalant a shrug as he can. “I guess you’re not all talk.” He thinks he manages not to be too transparent. “You just make that up?” It’s a reasonable question to ask, probably.

“Yeah, of course. I prefer to freestyle.” He smirks at Kei, cocking his head up, and sticks his hands into the pockets of his loose pants. Kei bites the inside of his cheek and shrugs.

Bokuto hops up from beside him over to Kuroo’s iPod. “My turn!” he says.

Kuroo sits next to Kei, closer than Bokuto was. Kei tries not to notice, especially since he’s sitting casually, as if Kei’s presence isn’t bothering him at all (and it probably isn’t).

Bokuto must have had a song in mind because he finds it faster than Kuroo did, or maybe he was thinking about it during Kuroo’s dance. This time, Kei recognizes it immediately as SIMI LAB’s Avengers.

Bokuto slides in front of them, already moving his whole body along to the beat of the intro. He sticks to one place until the song opens up the movement, and his moves go wider, swing from place to place. In general, he takes up more space than Kuroo; Kei starts to feel tired just watching him take broader steps than he ever bothers to. Bokuto exhibits just slightly less control than Kuroo did, but he makes up for it with energy. He uses every part of his body, from the way he twists his head back and forth to the way he steps his feet out and back and to the sides. His style is more rigid, his movements connect less, but that’s not at all a bad thing.

Basically, Kei’s worst fears are coming true. They’re both really good, and he’d be lying a dirty little lie if he didn’t admit at least in his head that they’re both sexy.

Bokuto’s panting just a little when he stops, which doesn’t surprise Kei, given how much he was moving. While he danced, his face was more focused, like the expression he usually wears when he’s playing volleyball, but now he resumes his usual grin. He looks expectantly at Kei.

Kei stares back, aware that Kuroo is now looking at him too. He knows Bokuto wants him to say something nice, but he’s not into giving out compliments like that. “You’re good, okay?” he admits finally. Bokuto looks pleased.

“Stop being so grouchy, Tsukki,” Kuroo says, nudging Kei’s leg with his shoe.

“I don’t know what you want from me. It’s pretty lame that you’re both fishing for compliments.”

Kuroo hums, still smiling slightly. “I think it’s your turn,” he says. “Or did you just want to watch two lame guys dance lame dances and not give them any of the compliments they’re fishing for?” He’s being sarcastic, of course. “Why don’t you blow us away, Tsukki?”

“Yeah, blow us away,” Bokuto repeats, and Kei is sure he’s imagining him putting too much emphasis on the word ‘blow,’ but it doesn’t stop him from imagining…things.

He stands, retrieves his iPod from his bag in the corner of the room, and tries not to feel nervous. It’s not as if he hasn’t been doing this nearly as long as they have. It’s not as if he doesn’t have the skill either; this isn’t volleyball; he knows what he’s doing. It’s just this situation; he’s a little bit intimidated by how into them both he is.

All he has to do is dance. He freestyles enough, so this shouldn’t be too hard. If they want him to blow them away, in the platonic sense, he can probably do that. Why not challenge himself, then, by not planning too far ahead? He selects the genre he wants, closes his eyes, and scrolls through at random.

It’s a DABO song, he’s not even sure which one. He knows it well enough that he remembers the lyrics, the beat, though, so it’s fine. He takes in a breath and starts to move.

Kei sees but doesn’t watch them as he dances, focusing trying to take himself out of the room. He does his best freestyling when he doesn’t think too hard about it, just focuses on the thrum of the music. He doesn’t even listen to the words; they’re not important. All that matters is the beat. He swings forward, around, steps here, jumps back. He’s not even sure what it looks like, but he knows he’s not off-time, and that’s good enough.

The song ends and he freezes, bent forward over his leg, feeling the energy of his flowing heartbeat pump through him as slowly rises. He lifts his head and stands up, rolling his shoulders back, and looks straight at Kuroo’s face. _How was that?_ he thinks. Kuroo’s just smiling, his cat-like eyes drooping lower than usual. Kei doesn’t say anything, feeling his energy turn steadily colder under Kuroo’s gaze. He can’t pick out what that expression means at all.

Kei hadn’t even noticed that Bokuto isn’t also in front of him until he feels hands on his shoulders, thumbs pressing into the back of them. He’s surprised at the casual touch, but the pressure feels good, even if the contact burns hot against his already warm skin. He tries not to think of why, tries not to understand what he feels in his stomach, and he doesn’t flinch away, even though he thinks maybe he should. Bokuto’s voice feels loud against his ear, but Kei is aware that he’s speaking at a normal level. “That was really…” His thumbs push thoughtfully into him again, and Kei finds himself holding his breath waiting for him to finish.

“Hot,” Kuroo finishes, finally standing. He moves his hands to his hips, and he says it so matter-of-factly that Kei’s eyes go wide. He keeps the rest of his face still—and his body for that matter. Maybe it’s a mistake; maybe he’s too still.

Bokuto’s thumbs are pressing firm lines up his shoulders to the back of his neck. He laughs. “Yeah!” As if he hadn’t known what he was going to say, and Kuroo supplied the word he couldn’t think of. Kei is recalculating: this situation looks a little too like something he could have imagined. He thought there was no way either of them could be interested in him, but he can’t think of another way to interpret them calling him ‘hot.’ Suddenly, Kei gets the feeling that they’re double-teaming him, that maybe that’s been their plan all along.

He’s not against it. Not at all.

But he still plays dumb. Why, he doesn’t really know. Probably because he’s an idiot who loves to suffer. “Excuse me?” he says.

Luckily, Kuroo doesn’t seem to buy it. “Oh, please,” he scoffs, taking a step forward. There’s only a dozen or so centimeters between them now, and Kei can feel the static electricity occupying that space. He wants to reach out and grab the front of Kuroo’s shirt, pull him to him, press up against his firm body. His resolve is getting weaker and weaker, and it doesn’t help that Bokuto’s actually touching him. His fingers are moving slowly up the side of his neck, and he can feel the hair on it standing up. “You’ve been thinking the same thing about us all day.”

Kei doesn’t respond. He’s always been good at reading people, but there are other people who share that skill. Kuroo is one such person, he realizes, and maybe the extra two years Bokuto has on him has made him somehow innately wiser. Kei thinks maybe he’s underestimated them both.

“It’s okay, Tsukki-kun,” Bokuto says to the back of his neck, warm breath soothing against his skin. He dips his thumbs under the collar of Kei’s t-shirt, pressing all the way up his neck into his hair. His lips are so close, and Kei can just feel the phantom wetness of his tongue flicking out across his skin from how much he wants it to be real. “We like you too.”

“Do you?” Kei replies, mouth feeling dry. Maybe the question comes out a little more incredulous than cool. He’s a little flustered now that this is really happening—more than a _little_ flustered. He’s still tingling all over from the dance he just did, and it hasn’t gone away like it usually does, but then, maybe this is an entirely different feeling.

Kuroo takes another step towards Kei, and Kei is mentally melting in thanks. He keeps still, only moves his eyes to flick across Kuroo’s face, his neck, his shoulders, but takes care to avoid going any lower. _Come on_ , he thinks impatiently. Bokuto’s hands are trailing down his back now, squeezing at the muscle. He swallows a soft moan, stares into Kuroo’s eyes, narrowed, devious.

Kuroo’s smirk twitches up a little more, as if he heard Kei screaming at him in his mind, and he slips his hands under Kei’s arms to rest on his hips. Kei’s own hands snap up to Kuroo’s bare shoulders.

“It’s not good to dance when you’re this tense,” Bokuto says, rolling his knuckles into Kei’s lower back. Kei’s breath hitches—he is tense, now. That’s their fault.

“Jeez, you’re all riled up, aren’t you?” Kuroo murmurs, sounding amused. He slides his hands up Kei’s sides, bunching up his shirt. Then they twist and move under the hem, fingers pressing under the waistband of his pants. It’s just the tips of his fingers, but his hands are so cool and dry against Kei’s hot skin, it burns just as drastically as Bokuto’s fingers on the back of his ribs.

He closes his eyes briefly, just fluttering, really, and his short nails dig into Kuroo’s shoulders. A second later, he opens them, fists his hand into the back of Kuroo’s hair, and pulls his head roughly toward him until their lips collide.

Kuroo is smiling and laughing a little against his mouth, but Kei presses against him until his lips slacken out of their upward tilt. He bites at the lower as soon as it slips between his, and Kuroo grunts appreciatively. Kei releases him and he nimbly slips his tongue into the space between Kei’s teeth, hard and thick and wet. Whatever was in his water bottle wasn’t water, but some kind of energy drink, and he tastes like dull sweetness mixed with the vibrancy of electrolytes.

But what he notices more than the taste is that he somehow didn’t see, at any point when Kuroo was talking, the stud in through the middle of his tongue. He knows how to use it, too. That slow, purposeful drag under his tongue, sliding the ball against the roof of his mouth so it tickles nicely. Fascinated, and more than a little turned on, Kei catches it the end of it between his teeth, and Kuroo pulls back, groaning and squeezing his sides. Bokuto is chuckling behind him; he must know Kei hadn’t known.

And—suddenly, the phantom wetness he was craving on the back of his neck becomes real as Bokuto sucks at the corner of his neck exposed at the edge of his collar. His hand comes up to tug the shirt back a bit, and he bites at the places he was massaging earlier, loosened by his touch and pliant under his teeth. Kei’s breath comes hard out of his nose as he feels Bokuto’s teeth digging into his skin and he angles his head farther to the side both to give him better access and to more fully thrust his tongue into Kuroo’s mouth.

He’s burning up between them, feeling the thrill of being stuck between two hot, near strangers’ mouths fulfilling fantasies he didn’t even acknowledge he had. And then, Kuroo’s hand creeps up to cover Bokuto’s, and he feels him squeeze it, and he doesn’t think anything of it until after they both pull away and he’s left feeling cold and robbed. He blinks out his confusion, tinged with irritation, and his face settles into something just short of a frown as he looks at Kuroo. “What’s wrong?” he asks, a little sour.

“There are better places to do this,” he says, squeezing Kei’s hip.

Oh?

“Like our place.”

**XXX**

Apparently, Bokuto’s room is dirty enough to be out of the question, so they go to Kuroo’s.

It’s not quite as messy as his hair, but it still isn’t clean, per se. It’s more cluttered than anything. He’s got magazines all over his desk, and a few more stacks on his floor. Also on his desk is a Polaroid camera and a few pictures, a lamp, a laptop with some notebooks stacked up underneath it, a couple cups and some soda bottles, though no dishes with food in them, thankfully.

There’s a bookshelf with a few books in it, but other things like dance trophies and awards, a couple of decks of cards, some goofy looking figures of monsters that could have come out of shitty scifi B movies (and it looks like there are matching posters on the walls for a few of them), a sock monkey, bits of random change that don’t look like yen. Next to the bookcase is a pretty nice looking acoustic guitar on a stand, and next to that is a red electric guitar and an amp.

There aren’t many clothes on the floor—just a few socks and a couple of pairs of shoes that have escaped his open, overflowing closet, and a jacket slipping off his desk chair with the sleeve pooling on the carpet.

But of course, what Kei notices is his bed. Black cotton sheets in disarray, no comforter (it’s hot in Tokyo this time of year, even at night), a couple of pillows lying askew and away from the headboard.

Bokuto immediately flops down backwards on Kuroo’s bed. “Ahh man, I think I’m gonna take a nap,” he says, shutting his eyes and crossing his arms under his head.

Before Kei can say anything, Kuroo has climbed onto his bed as well and is trying to push Bokuto towards the wall. “If you want to duck out like an asshole to _sleep_ , fine, but I want to get some, so don’t take up the whole fucking bed.”

Bokuto is holding onto the headboard and resisting being pushed. He laughs as Kuroo struggles to move him. When he starts to budge, he snaps his arms down and grabs at Kuroo’s, who starts trying to break free. Kei is kind of amused. He moves over to Kuroo’s chair and sits in it, resting his arm on the back and watching the other two. It’s pretty clear that they’re both strong. They’re grabbing and swatting at each other and making an even bigger mess of the sheets. Suddenly, Bokuto lifts himself up off the mattress, pulls one of Kuroo’s arms while pushing the other, and flips him so he’s lying underneath him. He swings his leg over Kuroo’s hips and pins him, and suddenly Kei is paying closer attention.

Bokuto’s grinning triumphantly, and Kuroo’s breathing a little hard. His fingers twitch where Bokuto’s got them pinned on either side of his head. He glances over at Kei for just a half a second, and suddenly he’s grinning too. “Bro. Kiss me.”

Bokuto looks a little confused at the sudden request, but then he follows Kuroo’s eyes, darting back and forth between him and Kei, while wiggle his eyebrows stupidly. Kei is blushing a little pink because apparently Kuroo can read minds, and Bokuto’s broad smile returns. “’Kay,” he says when he turns back to Kuroo. He doesn’t let go of his wrists as he leans down and crushes his lips to Kuroo’s.

Just like when they dance, every movement is smooth and purposeful and strong. They both have precise control over their movements, but also creativity and passion. Kuroo tilts his head to align his mouth better with Bokuto’s, parting his lips to allow Bokuto’s tongue to flick under his teeth. Kuroo catches his lip for a quick moment and then Bokuto’s tongue is slipping between his own. He chases it back into his mouth, and Kei suspects the slivers of them both their tongues he sees are purposeful, as are the little wet noises he can hear from his seat a few feet away and the soft moans. And Bokuto pulls hard on Kuroo’s tongue piercing, which makes Kuroo squirm and clench and unclench his fists.

Once or twice, they peek at him out of the corners of their barely opened eyes, and Kei knows they’re putting on a show for him. It’s having the intended effect. He had gotten just a little hard kissing Kuroo in the studio, but this is almost better (worse?). He’s getting impatient to join them, and he doesn’t realize he’s been gripping his knee and digging his index finger into the back of his thumb until he sees Kuroo’s sly and calculating gaze land on both of those spots.

Kuroo turns his head towards Kei suddenly, letting Bokuto’s eager lips land on his cheek. Bokuto just goes with it, nipping lightly along his jaw until he reaches junction with his ear, where he sucks stops travelling and just sucks. Kuroo laughs and squirms for real, as if he’s actually trying to get free. “Bro, come on, that tickles!”

So Bokuto presses a long, firm kiss to the spot and goes, “Mmmmmwah!” And he finally sits up and lets go of Kuroo’s arms. He sits against the wall as Kuroo heaves himself up. “I like kissing you, dude.” Bokuto is so good natured and honest that Kei is almost embarrassed, but at the same time he’s appreciative. Sometimes he likes people who are willing to bare their emotions, where he usually isn’t. Maybe that’s why he gets along with Yamaguchi so well.

“Shut up man, I’m gonna get embarrassed,” Kuroo complains, but he grins and boxes him on the shoulder. “Anyway, you should kiss him, he’s really good.” He jerks his thumb over at Kei, who snaps the rest of the way out of his half-broken trance.

“Oho?” Bokuto croons, looking more than up to the challenge. He wiggles his eyebrows a little at Kei, who cracks a smile and immediately covers his mouth. Bokuto holds up a hand palm-up and curls his finger to beckon Kei over.

“I’m not a dog,” Kei says, bristling slightly.

“He’s not a dog,” Kuroo repeats. Bokuto kicks him.

“Please come here and kiss me, Tsukishima-kun!” he tries, scrunching his eyes shut and slapping his hands together in front of him.

Kei is no less red in the face, but he lazily swings himself off his chair and sidles over to the bed. “Jeez, you don’t have to kow-tow either. It’s not like I’m the King or anything.” He gets around Kuroo, who’s looking unnecessarily pleased with himself, and settles into Bokuto’s lap.

“I wasn’t, but I would.” He waggles an eyebrow again.

Kuroo leans over so he can give Kei a stupid face. “He wasn’t, but he would.”

Bokuto pushes his face away. “You’re just being an ass now, man, shut up!”

Kei catches Bokuto’s cheek (and his attention) with one hand. “If he wants to be stupid, we can just ignore him.” He shuts his eyes and closes the short distance between his and Bokuto’s lips. They’re drier than Kuroo’s, like Bokuto probably doesn’t bother with chapstick, but it’s not unpleasant; they just kind of tickle more in the short, firm kisses he presses to Kei’s lips. Kei opens his mouth quickly, heat returning in full force from his earlier state, and Bokuto mimics him, meeting his tongue halfway.

Kuroo, behind him, is running his hands up his back, shooing Bokuto’s hands away. Them batting at each other is a little distracting for Kei, but eventually, after Kuroo’s whispered “Dude,” he drops them to Kei’s thighs and lets Kuroo pull at the collar of Kei’s jacket. Kei mentally rolls his eyes at Kuroo’s persistence, but moves his arms so Kuroo can pull the jacket off him. After that, he’s rucking up the bottom of Kei’s shirt. He’s forced to break away from Bokuto, who seems to keen after him even when the fabric is being pulled up over his head.

No more interruptions now. He kisses Bokuto hungrily, appreciating Bokuto’s deep thrusts into his mouth. Kuroo’s cool hands are running up his hot, bare skin, and it feels so nice. Bokuto bites his tongue, and Kei moans quietly. Kuroo’s hands are on his stomach going up and they stop at his chest, and Kei’s heart is thudding because he knows what comes next and he knows he’s probably going to make a stupid noise but he also doesn’t think he wants to stop him. When Kuroo rubs his fingers across Kei’s nipples, a soft whimper escapes into the space between his and Bokuto’s lips.

Kuroo laughs quietly, which figures; he seems like the type of guy who takes pleasure in other people being helpless, writhing messes below him. But Kei would be lying a little if he didn’t say that was what he wanted. He wants to get wrecked by both of them, even if the more conscious, in control part of his mind says that goes against his usual demeanor. This isn’t the place for ‘usual demeanors.’ And they’re both hot, so.

Kuroo pinches at his nipples again and his back arches when he moans, exposing his neck to Bokuto, who sucks just lightly at his jugular, tracing over his pulse with his teeth. Nothing he’s doing will leave a mark, but it feels nice. He gives another soft moan when Kuroo rubs circles around the buds on his chest. He’s getting so hard, but he’s had worse, in tighter pants than the ones he wears to dance. That doesn’t mean he’s not tired of them.

Bokuto is pressing him forward into Kuroo’s chest, which Kei realizes is bare too—he must have gotten rid of his shirt, he thinks hazily. He leans back obediently as Kuroo continues to play with his nipples. He can feel Kuroo’s hard cock pressing into his shoulder blade and he swallows, because it feels big and hot even through his clothes and he wants it in him somehow.

Kei looks up at Bokuto, who’s broken away from his neck to watch him melt under Kuroo’s touch. “You look good like this, Tsukki-kun!” he says, and Kei’s only consolation is that his face looks a little flushed too. He means to respond, but Kuroo gives him a little twist and he just groans instead, hips urging upward. Kuroo slips his arms out from under Tsukishima’s so he can lie fully in his lap in a less awkward way, and Bokuto rests his hands on Kei’s hips. “Can I touch you?” he asks, biting his lip a little.

“ _Please_ ,” Kei breathes.

“I like this kid,” Kuroo muses as Bokuto’s hands turn down the waistband of Kei’s pants and boxers, exposing his leaking cock. He’s a little irked at being referred to as a kid, but whatever, they’re the ones who want to fuck a ‘kid.’ Besides, he’s completely distracted when Bokuto’s hand smooths over his head, smearing his precum over his cock, and starts giving it firm strokes.

Kei groans and rocks his hips against Bokuto’s hand, eyes closing as he sinks into pleasure. Kuroo’s hands are lazily tracing across his ribs and chest, giving his nipples a break. The scratching of his short nails tickles pleasantly against his skin, making him shiver. He reaches up and grabs onto Kuroo’s shoulder with one hand as the other fists into the soft fabric of his pants.

“He’s so expressive,” Bokuto murmurs, twisting his hand up Kei’s cock and making him turn his face into Kuroo’s thigh. “Can you imagine what he’d be like if you fucked him?” Kei’s distracted, but not enough to miss the meaningful intonation of Bokuto’s ‘hypothetical’ question.

Kuroo drags his nails lazily up Kei’s ribs and he arches his back. “I want to do more than just imagine it.”

Kei scowls now. “Is this your roundabout way of asking if you can fuck me? Why are you so shy all of a sudden?”

“Is that a yes?” Kuroo asks, sounding unnecessarily giddy. He grins at Bokuto, who grins back.

“What do you think?”

“Will you suck my cock then?” Bokuto adds eagerly, working his hand over Tsukki’s a little faster in excitement at the prospect.

Kei pants a little, but does his best to keep cool. “Since you asked so nicely,” he says as smoothly as he can, but more ragged than he wants. Kuroo’s chuckling again. Bokuto stops his hand and they both start moving away from him, so he sits up as well.

“Probably be best to have you on your hands and knees,” Kuroo muses, and Bokuto nods, and Kei blushes a little thinking about it. He’s not embarrassed, it’s just that he’s never been fucked by two people before; but he is more than willing to give it a try, especially if it’s them. There’s not even a question of ‘if,’ just ‘how,’ and Kuroo’s answered it.

He steps off the bed for a second to rid himself of his pants completely. Bokuto is currently tangled in his own shirt, and Kuroo is also naked by the time he gets it off, tossing a bottle of lube back and forth between his hands that Kei didn’t see him grab. “Need some help, buddy?” he asks, amused at Bokuto’s enthusiastic misfortune.

Bokuto manages to pull it off finally as Kei is sitting back down. “Nope, got it.” And Kei can’t help but think what’s he’s _got_ are really nice abs and pecs. Kuroo still has muscles—nice ones—but Bokuto is thick and broad. Either way, he’s going to enjoy the view.

He moves so he’s on his knees and then drops down onto his hands and the drops down onto his hands around Bokuto as Kuroo moves behind him. Bokuto’s pushing his pants down over his hips, and he sighs happily when his cock is no longer constrained by them. Kei is met with a second surprise piercing—a silver stud from under his frenulum through the head of his cock. He finally looks up to Bokuto’s face, which is sultry, but somehow goofy. “Did you show him?” Kuroo asks from behind them. Kei hears the lube cap pop open.

“Yep,” he says, giggling.

“We got them done at the same time,” Kuroo adds.

“At first he was just gonna do his, but—”

“But then _Bokuto_ had to _one-up me_.”

Bokuto goes all indignant. “You _dared_ me to, man.”

“I was joking!” Kuroo says, sounding exasperated.

Bokuto’s jaw slackens a little and his eyes narrow. “Were you really?”

Kei doesn’t really care whether or not Kuroo had been joking; the piercing is there, and he wants to play with it. “How sensitive is it?” he asks, interrupting their back-and-forth.

“Hm? Oh, it’s completely healed, just, uh, don’t pull to hard.”

“Pull hard,” Kuroo whispers.

“Please don’t.”

“I won’t. Now, are we done talking?” He feels a little strange just baring his ass to Kuroo and hovering over Bokuto’s cock, especially since he’s still very hard.

Bokuto starts to say something, but it’s cut off by Kei’s own loud gasp as he suddenly feels a wet finger pressing into his hole. “Someone’s grumpy. Seems like you still need to loosen up a little if you’re not even game for some friendly banter.” He pushes the finger in all the way up to the knuckle and presses downwards.

Kei swallows down a moan. “Well, I was supposed to be using my mouth for something else anyway, wasn’t I?” Kuroo’s withdrawing his finger slowly and Kei keens his hips after him.

“I’m not complaining, if you wanna…” Bokuto trails off, eyes darting meaningfully between his cock and Kei’s mouth.

Kei lowers himself down onto his forearms, making him feel the angle even more as Kuroo presses back into him. This will be harder without his hands, but Bokuto seems willing to help. He steadies his cock with one hand in front of Kei’s parted lips.

Kei teases his tongue over the stud, not even meaning to make contact with Bokuto’s skin, but he still whimpers, watching his tongue. He does it again, this time pressing the stud up with the tip, breathing hot over Bokuto’s flushed head, and he hears a groan.

He closes his mouth over Bokuto’s cockhead and moves his tongue lazily across the skin. Unlike Kuroo’s tongue piercing, the stud is cooler, although it won’t be for long if he keeps his mouth over it. There’s the faintest taste of metal mixed with the flavor of Bokuto’s precum, sweat, and skin—overall, not a bad taste. Bokuto is murmuring his name in between little noises of pleasure. His hand moves to Kei’s head, resting gently on his hair. Kei wouldn’t mind if he pushed down, but figures he won’t.

Kuroo’s still pumping in and out of him, and as he starts to move down over the dick in his mouth, he feels his ass suddenly stretched wide as Kuroo adds two more fingers at once and he _moans._

“Oops, sorry, I was getting impatient. Bokuto sounds like he’s having too much fun over there,” Kuroo says, not sounding the least bit sorry and knowing very well that Kei can’t reply. He doesn’t even want to; he’s busy trying to figure out how much of Bokuto’s cock he can fit into his mouth. Bokuto’s pretty girthy, but Kei doesn’t have much in the way of a gag reflex, and he’s managed to fit an entire dick into his mouth on more than one occasion. Kuroo’s missing out.

He knows what he’s doing, though, twisting his fingers around in Kei’s ass, pulling and stretching him open, sliding his slick fingers in as deep as they can go and out almost entirely. Kei can’t keep from groaning around Bokuto’s dick, which just makes Bokuto pant and groan too. His dick aches the raw, harsh ache of sustaining an erection for an extended period of time without being touched, and he hates Kuroo. He hates him because he thinks he could even come without being touched, and he suspects Kuroo would let him.

Kuroo finally draws his fingers out of him completely and Kei’s thinks, _Thank god_. He feels empty without his fingers, but he knows it won’t be for long. He got an eyeful earlier, and he’s not going to be disappointed. He listens for the crinkle of a condom wrapper and hears it between Bokuto’s moans and encouragements.

“Jesus, man, are you going to come before we even get started?” Kuroo asks.

“Shut up—ahh—he’s good at this! And… _mm_ …maybe!”

Kei feels Kuroo’s hands on his hips and he shivers slightly even though they’re warm. He pulls off of Bokuto’s cock, sucking at the side of it as he holds it and strokes Kei’s hair. He gasps when he feels Kuroo start to push into him. It doesn’t hurt since he prepped him well, but the stretch is as good as he was imagining, if not better, and he knows it’s just as good for Kuroo from the way he sighs out. He abandons Bokuto for a moment to say, “Touch me, dammit!” in a low, urgent voice.

Kuroo chuckles. “Maybe if you’re good.” He presses in as deep as he can and flattens a hand over Kei’s back, rubbing over his heated skin. “You feel nice.” Kei whimpers and pushes back against him urgently. He’s desperate for Kuroo’s hand around his cock. He distracts himself with Bokuto’s piercing, catching the end of it between his teeth and pulling lightly.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Bokuto gasps. “Kuroo, don’t be mean to him, I swear to god I’m in love.” His fingers are pressing into Kei’s scalp, and Kei wishes he had enough hair to pull.

Kuroo starts to move with lazy, shallow thrusts and Kei whimpers. He sucks on Bokuto’s head and thrusts his hips to try to deepen Kuroo’s movements, but then there are hands on them, steadying them. “Have a little faith, will you?” Kuroo says. He quickens his pace a little, thrusts more deeply. He’s big, and the ache in Kei’s belly is just getting worse; his entire lower body is screaming for one reason or another, but mostly it feels good. He’s just so hard and heavy and desperate, but this is what he wanted. He swallows down more of Bokuto’s cock than before, hearing him mutter a quiet, “Holy shit,” followed by a whimper of his own. He thinks he can feel the piercing brushing up against the back of his throat, and he’s not keeping all his saliva in his mouth at this point; it’s dripping down, and he swallows even as Kuroo’s jostling him.

“ _Tsukki_ , you’re amazing, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Bokuto praises. Kuroo’s making a little noise, but not nearly as much as him. Kei groans, appreciative of Bokuto’s enthusiasm. He half wishes he had let Bokuto fuck him instead, because he thinks Bokuto might _touch him_. Plus, he wonders what that piercing is like from the other side.

Kuroo’s hands roam over him, touching everywhere they can reach except where Kei wants it the most. His back, his hips, his ass, his thighs, but never his aching prick. He swallows his desperation between moans as he sucks at Bokuto’s thick cock, feels Kuroo fucking into him, head growing hazy from need. Bokuto’s still praising him, but it’s growing more and more incoherent.

“ _Fuck_ , Tsukki. Kuroo— _fuck._ You’re so good… I _can’t_ —I’m—” Bokuto pulls as best he can at Kei’s short hair and he moves off, gasping. Bokuto strokes himself through his orgasm, and Kei takes it all in the face—on his glasses, his cheek, in his mouth. He pants and swallows and rests his forehead on Bokuto’s thigh.

Kuroo’s still fucking him, harder now, grunting and groaning, murmuring Kei’s name as all Kei can do is catch his breath. Bokuto strokes his hair absently, but it’s still not the touch he wants.

“ _Fuck_ , you’re so tight. You must not get laid enough.”

Kei is still somewhat out of breath. “I can’t—ahhn, believe you’re getting— _ohh_ —digs in at me _now_ ,” Kei quips back. “Just fucking _touch me already, please._ ” If he has to beg, at this point, he will.

“Oh, that’s what you wanted? Why didn’t you say so earlier?” Kei is livid, but finally, he feels a warm hand curl around his cock, squeezing and stroking firmly over him. He sobs into Bokuto’s thigh and curls his fists into the sheets.

“Holy shit, dude,” Bokuto murmurs. “Tsukki, you’re so hot.”

Kei only lasts a minute more before he comes with a cry. He jerks his hips back against Kuroo, who thankfully thrusts hard into him and pumps his hand over him with enough force to make Kei’s vision black out for a few seconds. He can’t remember ever coming that hard before, and when Kuroo pulls out of him he flops over onto the bed and feels his whole body shaking.

He thinks he misses a few seconds where Kuroo is getting rid of the condom and Bokuto is clambering over to him, his pants now pulled back up, because when he opens his eyes he sees Kuroo straddling Bokuto, rocking into his hand as they kiss open-mouthed. It’s remarkably hot watching Kuroo’s body curve and bend like that, seeing their tongues meet in the space between their mouths, hearing Kuroo’s moans, and he almost imagines he could get hard again, if he weren’t tired.

Kuroo pushes Bokuto’s face into his neck when he comes with a long groan, and Bokuto bites him as he strokes him through it. Kuroo slackens against him after a bit and Bokuto pats his back, wiping his hand on his pants. Then they both crawl over to Kei, who is still catching his breath, curling up on either side of him.

He feels a little over-warm with both of them pressed up against him, but he’s not about to move. He tries to think back on his day; it started with them dancing together, and now they’re all lying in Kuroo’s bed, having fucked each other in various ways. Kei’s been wanting this since...essentially since he met them. He might have thought he would be okay with either of them, but both was definitely better.

He wonders if this will be a one-time thing.

“We should do this more often,” Kuroo mutters into Kei’s shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” he asks.

“Dancing, dumbass. You remember, you know, dancing? It was like an hour ago.”

Kei is about to let himself feel disappointed when Bokuto adds, “You should stick around and fuck us more, too.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees, “that too.”

“Can I ask something?” Kei asks, redirecting the conversation.

“Mm,” Bokuto hums, snuggling against Kei’s neck. His breath tickles Kei’s shoulder.

“Were you planning this from the beginning?”

They answer at the same time. Kuroo says “Maybe” and Bokuto heartily throws out a “Yes.” Kuroo smacks Bokuto’s arm.

“What? You told me you wanted to fuck him back in _high school_.”

“Bro, I swear to god.” But he doesn’t make any move other than curling his arm around Kei’s stomach.

Kei starts laughing, which starts Bokuto giggling, and finally Kuroo joins in as well.

“Okay, fine, I did. I was a horny teenager.”

“‘Was.’”

“I’m not a teenager anymore, you ass. And you’re a hypocrite.”

“Guilty.” Bokuto chuckles again.

“I’m exhausted,” Kei says, wanting them to take the hint. He figured if Kuroo wasn’t okay with them staying in his bed, he wouldn’t have pinned him between himself and Bokuto, so he could go for some sleep.

“Yeah, I bet,” Kuroo replies a bit too smugly.

Kei doesn’t mind, though. He’s only just started college, and he’s barely even talked to Kuroo and Bokuto, but if it’s going to be like this, he thinks he could get used to it.


End file.
